


***a fragment***

by dongharvester



Category: Dragon Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 14:43:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10220522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dongharvester/pseuds/dongharvester
Summary: ok imagine...Cell has a dong...and it's raining...YEAH...





	

**Author's Note:**

> It seems like there isn't much Cell content nowadays. I could be wrong. I am staggeringly drunk at present. Someone has to do something about this so I guess it's up to my drunk slacker ass. Ok. So. This branches off from Biological Imperative right at the moment that the reader spits in Cell's face after he kills that guy in the woods. Instead of immediately doing an assault, Cell flies the reader off to somewhere deep in the wilderness and just...leaves them there. For hours. During a rainstorm. It's real fuckin bad.

"You must be cold."  

The words rouse you from your miserable stupor. It's pitch dark out, but the barest edge of silhouette shows you that Cell is standing only a few feet away. Looking at him doesn't make you feel sick anymore: just angry. Barely even that, to be honest.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" you mutter. 

"Come," he says. "I'll take you back to the house. Let's make amends, shall we?" 

Raising one arm, you lob a loose fistful of mud and grit somewhere in his direction. You might have hit him if you could aim at all: if you had any feeling in your fingers.

"I would literally rather die than do that."

For about twenty seconds there's no sound but the incessant pelting of rain. Then he lets out a long, aggrieved sigh.

"It just never stops with you, does it?"

The mud squishes under his feet as he steps right up to you. As he comes into better view, you notice something grotesque. 

"Have you had your dick out this whole time?"

He doesn't answer until after hoisting you up and pinning you against the rough bark of the enormous tree. His phallus extends upward like a giant mushroom, rainwater glistening as it drips down the shaft. He traps it between the two of you and the slimy, searing thickness presses hard against your belly.

"Well, I was going to wait until you were home and dry, but you're just acting so difficult."

You try to squirm away but you're so weak, and there's nowhere to go anyway. Even if he was an ordinary human you'd be in trouble. Plus, you're freezing, and he's warm. On an extremely basic level it's nice to have him up against you.

"The hell you were. Let me guess, if I had gotten up and gone with you, you'd be doing just what you're doing now, but you'd be calling it a 'reward' for being so cooperative, right?"

He leans into you so hard you can barely take a breath. His chest vibrates against yours, reverberating with his repulsive laughter. 

"You're making it very hard for me to be nice to you. But then, I've never shied away from a challenge."

Then he threads his fingers through yours and widens his stance, lowering his face down to yours. You jerk your head away as much as you can. Tree bark scratches against your ear. His breath is hot and odorless on your skin.

"Oh, you're so cold," he murmurs.

Soft, slow kisses land on your cheek. It's taking all your resolve not to react. You don't know what kind of reaction he wants, so you're not capable of doing whatever the opposite of that would be. His mouth is warm. Hell, his whole body is warm, and you would be happy to embrace him right back if he were anyone else on the planet. Pulling your face away when all you want is to be free of the cold is one of the hardest things you've ever done. The feeling is coming back into your hands and you can't bring yourself to struggle in his grip. 

In spite of everything, a dreadful heat pools in your nether regions. It might just be an involuntary response to what he's doing. It might not. The fact that there's any ambiguity in that matter is both infuriating and shameful.

He presses his lips to the corner of your mouth and you cringe, your eyes snapping shut. He pauses, huffing against your face. When he releases your hands to move you up a little higher, grabbing your ass he does so, you can't help but try to push his face away. You know it's useless. He knows that you know this. For a moment he indulges the impulse and lets you push him away. He smiles. It isn't even an evil smile. 

At this point you almost want him to hurt you: bite you, strangle you, break your ruined leg into pieces. That would be easier to deal with mentally.

Cell removes his right hand from below and presses it against your left one. He tilts his head, eyes shut, and kisses your palm before you snatch it away.

"Stop it."

He cocks his head.

"Now why would I do that?"

Silence. One corner of his mouth stretches up into a smirk. Even in this murky darkness you can see him smirk.

"I don't want this," you say.

"Is this because I left you alone in the woods? You know I wouldn't have done that if you hadn't disrespected me."

"No, you idiot, you killed someone!"

At the word "idiot" his composure falters. His mouth snaps into a hard, flat line and his eyes narrow.

"There's no need to be rude, dear one."

Quick as anything he has both your wrists pinned over your head with one hand while his other seizes your chin, forcing you to look at him. All your weight is now suspended by your arms and it hurts like hell. The strain on your shoulders is making your eyes water.

"If I recall correctly, you knew when I first came to you that I was a killer. You knew it when you kissed me back. You knew it when you led me into the woods and let me inside you, and you knew it every time since then that I fucked you senseless–" he shoves his hand into your underwear and probes your slit with one finger, eliciting a shudder "–and made you scream. What's different now? Did that nameless young man mean more than everyone else I exterminated?"

He's not wrong. Not quite. The boy today shouldn't have mattered so much. But he did. 

"I'm allowed to change my mind," you mumble.

The shoulder pain is making it difficult to speak clearly. To say nothing of his finger slipping deeper and deeper inside you. In that moment, the only thing for which you're grateful is that he ground his claw-like nails into short, smooth stubs at some point between dumping you in the woods and now.

"You're a hypocrite, and you're lying to yourself."

"There are worse things to be," you growl.

He slides in a second finger and you have to grit your teeth to keep from groaning. His in and out motions are slow, almost gentle, as if he doesn't want to cause excessive harm.

"You bedded down with the doom of the human race and now you're feeling guilty. You're a traitor to your planet. What do you think you're going to do now? Leave? Even if you did find some way to get away from me no one else would have you if they knew."

A flash of lightning illuminates the scene for a split second. Cell's mouth is stretched into an unnatural grin. The stark lighting makes him look hellish, the peaks of his head like the horns of a demon. You can feel your muscles contracting involuntarily as he violates you.

"Even if I had said no in the first place wouldn't have stopped you. You can't blame me for trying to make the best of a bad situation."

"What if nothing. You surrendered yourself to me."

"It wouldn't have m-mattered if I'd said no."

"Ah, but you didn't. You said yes to me. You said yes to this."

His fingers are moving faster now, swirling and thrusting and scraping against your g-spot. Between that and the agonizing strain on your shoulders speech is almost impossible.

"You can't f-force me to want you," you choke out.

He barks out a laugh.

"I don't need to. I told you I was more than just a weapon. I have many abilities. For example, the voluntary production of hormones and pheromones that trigger arousal in human beings."

_What the fuck,_  you think. _What the FUCK._

He pushes his fingers in as far as they'll go and holds them there, buried to the knuckle inside you. His other hand is still clamped around your wrists. 

"Or maybe I don't. Maybe this is all you. I don't have to force you to want me because however much you might protest, you DO want me."

Cell withdraws his hot, slippery fingers and presses them to your mouth.

"What would you call that, exactly?"

You can shut your mouth to him, but you can't shut your nose. The smell is equal parts you and him. Underneath your musk he smells like a doctor's office: sterile instruments and gynecological stirrups.

Smiling in a soft sort of way, he moves his fingers to his own nose and takes a long sniff before sucking the residue off them with languid care. 

"Lie to me all you want. Your body still tells the truth."

He releases your hands and you drop, crying out, but he catches you with his telekinesis before you hit the ground. Using the same power he wraps your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck in a gross parody of a devoted lover. He slips one hand under your shirt and threads the other through your hair, the way he had the first time he kissed you.

"Like it or not, you belong with me," he whispers.

He brushes his lips against yours, breathing on your mouth, making a show of waiting for you to reciprocate. Fighting him off is exhausting. Physically, it's impossible, and mentally it's nearly so. You've never been so tired in all your life. Maybe it'll be worse for you if you keep resisting. Maybe it won't. It's just not worth the hassle.

_I hate you so fucking much._

You touch your lips to his. Humming with satisfaction, he returns the motion. You're ready for him to turn savage, but he doesn't. His tongue even stays in his mouth. He plants kiss after gentle kiss on your trembling mouth and strokes the back of your head. Soft touches, tender movements. It makes the bile rise in your throat.

Holding you in place with telekinesis, he moves his hands to your shorts and rips them in two. You can't help cringing when he positions the tip of his penis at your entrance. He pushes in just a little, then stops. Presses his mouth to your forehead.

"This doesn't have to be an ordeal, you know. It's only difficult for you because you're making it that way."

Even now, even after that small surrender, you're straining to get away from him. You're so weak it's hardly noticeable.

"Maybe you've just forgotten how nice I can be," he murmurs. "I'm going to make you feel extremely good."

"I don't want you to do any of this."

Your voice is nothing but a faint, crackling whisper.

"It doesn't really matter what you want. What you need is to come to terms with who and what you are."

He rubs his hand up and down your back.

"Just relax. It will be better for you."

Sighing, he slides into you as easily as if you had been constructed just for him. There's a distinct feeling of stretching, but it isn't painful. If this wasn't rape—you feel dangerously close to blacking out just thinking of that word—it might even be pleasant.

"That's my girl," he purrs.

"You're not like other people, you know. You're worse. The only human part of you is your body."

He presses his thumb to your clit and you seize up. The word "liar" dies on your lips.  

"Speaking of which, human bodies are so fragile. Raise or lower the temperature by less than a hundred degrees and you're like putty. It's almost endearing, you know. You're so easily manipulated."

You would scream at him, or spit in his face, or tell him to fuck off back to hell where he belongs, but you know that if you open your mouth all that's going to come out is a moan. Or you'll start crying. Or both.

"You're not like me," he whispers. "No one is. But you're not like other people either. You're just as alone as I am."

It's not true. You know it's not. You have friends and family. But it's disturbing how he seems to believe it.

"Why else would you have called out to me?"

He's so self-obsessed that it's actually helping you disconnect from what he's doing to you. 

**Author's Note:**

> THAT'S ALL I GOT FOR RIGHT NOW, FRIENDS. I PROMISE THERE WILL BE MORE.


End file.
